she left salt in my wounds
by heartbends
Summary: Naomi isn’t sure, but somewhere, somehow Cook became her best friend her only friend and it’s rather comforting.


I (don't) wish you well.

She knows it's her _fucking_ fault. He doesn't see it that way and somehow it's what she needed, someone not to look at her like she's shit. He simply explains how things could be worse (it involves the pits of hell, and something about Freddie fucking his mum)

She laughs and it never quite reaches her eyes.

He knows.

…

She stays at his house every Wednesday. She's not exactly sure why. She thinks it's when she finally gives up and admits she's lonely.

He tells her she's in a funk and she rolls her eyes (and knows he's right) but all the while he smiles and laughs about things that she thinks are completely impossible.

Sometimes she thinks he is the impossible.

…

Emily looks straight through her and she knows she deserves it.

…

The tears come before she knows they're there. They're covering her cheeks and her chest is aching.

She lost something she never even really had.

…

Katie doesn't look straight through her. "Fucking cunt."

"Leav'er alone, Katie." He winks at her, uncapping his pen with his teeth.

Naomi isn't sure, but somewhere, somehow Cook became her best friend (her _only_ friend) and it's rather comforting.

_Everything is so fragile, don't you realize that?_ Emily's words ring through her head while she watches Cook smoke that night (it's Wednesday) She wants to ask him if he's fragile, if his heart aches like hers does.

When he finally looks at her; she knows.

…

The first time Naomi sees Emily kiss another person, she feels physically sick. Her skin feels too tight and wrong on her bones one minute, and the next she feels like she's dreaming. "Babe?"

_It hurts. It hurts._

(_Be brave, want me back_)

He touches her back and she feels the shivers in her spine. She feels sick, alone, tired, and mostly fucked. That suffocating feeling finds her again, but this time it's a little easier to breathe again, she isn't alone or pressured into feeling better.

Feeling better isn't really an option.

(_We were special_)

…

She wonders if she's easy to forget, hard to love.

Sophia thought she loved Naomi. (That was Naomi's fault) Emily did love Naomi, and like all the things in her life, she ruined it.

Cook loves her. The way he loves JJ, of course (Fuck Naomi, are you always this insecure, fuck. Of course I fucking love you)

Naomi wishes the words came so effortless for her.

…

The last time she talks to Emily is the easiest conversation they've had. She asks Emily about her life, and finds herself genuinely happy that Emily is happy (a little heartbroken, sure) but Emily deserves to smile and have someone who isn't a coward.

"Did you love her?"

Naomi wishes she could say yes, wishes it was that simple. "No." Her heart aches a little when she sees Emily's face. "I'm a coward."

Emily reaches her hand across the table, placing it on hers. "You're the bravest person I know, Naomi."

She isn't. "Thank you, Emily." She stands up and leaves without looking at Emily again. Somehow she stops missing her, stops missing her lips, tongue, and skin.

…

His bed sinks beneath her weight as she puts her nose into the back of his neck and breathes his name gently.

"Fuck Naomi." He turns to her and rubs his eyes; they're red with alcohol and the sleep he craves. She isn't sure what to say now that she's with him. She wants to tell him that Emily's gone even if she's been gone forever (it feels like it) she also wants to tell him…

Fuck.

…

Her house is completely empty by the end of July (she hates every fucking moment of it) Cook takes it upon himself to move in.

He cooks dinner and it's a complete disaster, but she still smiles, and even if it's burnt and tastes disgusting, she eats it anyway. He made it for her, and somehow it fills her in a different way.

He even washes the dishes (she's grateful, she hates dishes) and once he's done he joins her on the couch, without a word she curls up into his lap. His fingers curl in her hair, and somehow it feels right. She presses her nose into his jeans; avoiding his eyes "Are you over her, Cook?"

His fingers still in her hair, and he pulls at her tendrils as he leans his head back on the couch. "Doesn't matter if I am or not." It brings tears to her eyes to hear him sound so defeated. "She was never mine anyway, always his."

"You never belonged to anyone, Cook." He laughs a little, it's not real but the sound of it is still somehow a bit more comforting that she expects.

The silence sinks in between them and after a while he laughs, this time it's genuine, and she looks up at him with curious eyes and he laughs even louder. "Just thinkin' Naomikins. Guys are gonna be all over you once they realize you'd be into a threesome."

She laughs too loudly, slapping his knee. "Shut up, Cook."

…

Naomi tells Cook things she's never told anyone. She tells him about the first time she ever kissed anyone, and tells him about her mom's boyfriend that touched her a little too much. He listens to her, nodding often and inserting comments when necessary.

What she loves most about him is that he never feels sorry for her.

Loves. _Loves_.

She loves him.

…


End file.
